


Skirt

by nubianamy



Series: Donutverse 50 Kinky Ways [3]
Category: Glee
Genre: Crossdressing Kink, Discipline, Dom/sub, M/M, Polyamory, top!Kurt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-25
Updated: 2011-08-25
Packaged: 2017-10-23 01:52:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/244932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nubianamy/pseuds/nubianamy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>50 Kinky Ways prompt #2: Cross-Dressing.  Puck sticks his foot in his mouth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Skirt

"I told you, man," said Puck, angrily slamming down the pot on the stove. It made a little splash, and the gas flame flickered for a moment. "It's not like that. I don't like him because he looks like a  _girl."_

"I know," Finn said, easing himself into a chair, and held out a soothing hand. "It's okay."

"No, it's not." Puck closed his eyes, anger gone as suddenly as it had come. Now he just looked anguished. "I can't believe he's still worried about that." He turned the gas off and leaned against the stove, crossing his arms.

"Can you see it from his point of view, though? You had the Cheerios uniform in your hand when you said it."

"Dude, he  _does_  have great legs. So what? You saw him in that skirt at prom. Wasn't he smoking hot?"

"It was a kilt," said Finn absently. "Yeah. Of course he was."

Puck's forehead drew down into what looked suspiciously like a pout. "Just because I said he'd look hot in a skirt doesn't mean I want him to be a girl. I want him because he's… well, for too many things. I can't fucking name them all."

Finn put out a hand, offering his lap, and Puck was drawn to sit on his leg, somewhat unwillingly. "Maybe you should try."

"Okay," Puck said, uncertainly. "Um, well, there's this thing he does with his mouth when he's pissed off, that just gets me so hot –"

"No, dude," Finn grinned. "You should tell  _him."_  He looped an arm around Puck's waist and gave him a squeeze.

"Oh."

"I know you're totally into him," said Finn. "And I know it's not because he's some substitute girl."

"No!" Puck seemed horrified by the idea. "If I wanted to be with a girl, I've got plenty of fucking choices, believe me. The Puckster can still line them up, ready and waiting."

Finn's hand made slow circles on his back. Puck sighed, letting his body relax a little bit against the hand, and Finn was pleased to see the lines in his face smooth. "Maybe," Finn suggested, "this isn't about you at all. He's been teased all his life for his voice, his attitude, his style. I'm guessing he's got some fears left over from that. What you said, it just reminded him about all the people in his life who've called him a girl."

"Fuck." Puck's head fell against Finn's chest, and he closed his eyes. "I messed up."

"It's never too late to fix it," said Finn. "And you can bet I'll help with that later. But right now, why don't you go to him and see what you can do to make him feel better?"

Finn's lips drew Puck out from the circle of his arm, but before Puck could deepen the kiss, Finn pulled away and encouraged him to stand, giving his bottom a gentle pat.

"What if he doesn't forgive me?" Puck said, and now his voice was low.

"He always has before," Finn said. "And he always will. Don't worry about that. Just go tell him how you really feel about him. And keep your hands to yourself until he hears you, okay? You're really distracting when you do that thing."

"What thing would that be?" Puck said, grinning, and did that thing to Finn.

"Brat," Finn growled. "Get the hell out of here."

"Yes, sir," Puck said, ducking his head, and Finn mentally added two extra strokes to his daily tally.

* * *

"Kurt?" Puck said, pushing open the door to the bedroom. "Hey, man, I wanted to – oh."

Kurt was standing in the center of the room, before the full-length mirror. Puck was surprised to see the uniform still fit him, because Kurt had filled out a lot in the past year, not only in height but in the chest, and his arms definitely had not done  _that_  to the white half-sleeves the last time Puck saw him wear it.

And those were unquestionably  _not_  the red striped pants Kurt had always worn with his uniform when he'd been on the Cheerios squad. Puck swallowed as Kurt did a little pirouette, graceful as always, and the skirt flared, giving a tantalizing glimpse of his strong thighs.

Kurt looked over his shoulder at Puck and, in a decidedly dirty manner, bit his lip. He let his eyes drop, then looked up again at Puck through his lashes. "What do you think?" he murmured.

Puck's mouth opened, and he had no idea what he'd been planning to say, but what came out was just the truth. "Dude, you are so fucking hot."

"So, the skirt does it for you?" Kurt spun again, and Puck wanted to lean over just a little bit because he couldn't  _quite_  see what was going on underneath, but he thought maybe he had an idea, and the idea alone was giving him a hard on the size of Wyoming.

"No, man," Puck said, softly.  _"You_  do it for me."

Kurt appraised himself coolly in the mirror, jerking up his chin and smoothing the skirt over his legs. "You have to admit, it does solve some of the issues regarding access. Maybe I should wear skirts more often."

"That's up to you," Puck shrugged. "I've never told you what to wear before."

Kurt's smile was pitying. "As though I'd listen to your advice when it came to clothes, Noah. I do your laundry, remember? I know exactly what proportion of your wardrobe consists of black t-shirts."

"No skirts, though," said Puck, taking a few steps forward, but Kurt shook his head, and Puck stopped where he was. "Maybe I should try wearing one myself."

"I've never wanted  _you_  to dress like a girl, sweetheart." Kurt's voice was gentle, but his face carried pain, and some kind of self-recrimination that wrung Puck's heart.

"And what exactly do you think this means about you?" Puck said, his anger flaring again. "Fuck this. I came in here to tell you how you make me feel, but now I guess I'm just making it worse." He turned to go.

"Noah," Kurt said. Puck stopped, his head down, and breathed out his defeat. He felt Kurt's arms come around him from behind, Kurt's chin on his shoulder. It still felt weird, now that Kurt was taller than him.

"Why don't you tell me what you were going to say," he said.

"Now I can't even remember," Puck said truthfully. "All I want to do is get in your pants. Um, I mean." He shook his head and covered his face. "God, I can't even hit on my own boyfriend without fucking up."

"Stop that," Kurt commanded, swatting him hard on the ass. Puck made a surprised noise and staggered forward a step, catching himself against the wall, then moaned as Kurt slipped a hand under the curve of his ass and into the space between his legs. "I can feel  _exactly_  what you think of me in this skirt. Don't deny it."

"No," Puck whimpered, and ground back against Kurt, feeling the skirt ride up just a little as he pressed his backside against Kurt's thighs. He cleared his throat, struggling to keep a grip on his intent. "But that doesn't mean I want you to be a girl."

"No." Kurt's hands came around to Puck's jeans and slowly unbuttoned them, his fingers sliding under the waistband to cup Puck's cock. "I don't think you want me to be a girl."

"I don't," Puck insisted. "God. You're a dude. I like you that way."

"There are things I'd have trouble doing to you if I wasn't," said Kurt, right against his ear, and Puck bucked his hips into Kurt's hand, biting back another moan. And then Kurt's hands were slipping his jeans off, followed by his shorts, and he could feel Kurt's bare legs, brushing against his own skin. "And I've got… plans for you, sweetheart."

"Oh," Puck gasped, because the skirt had ridden up and he could feel exactly what Kurt had on underneath. Which was nothing. He could feel the slippery satin of Kurt's hard cock, dragging across his bare ass and between his thighs.

"Tell me," said Kurt, parting Puck's legs, positioning them just so, just as he might if he were getting ready to deliver a particularly stinging blow to his bottom. "Tell me why you like me this way."

"This way?" Puck echoed, helplessly writhing under Kurt's soft, firm hands.

"I'm a boy," Kurt said, his voice light and sweet, but definitely not playing. "Tell me why you like that."

"Your… your hands," Puck stuttered. He could feel the sweat gathering in the small of his back as he arched his hips. "They're strong. You can – fuck, Kurt. You know just how to touch me. Girls never quite figure it out."

"Go on," Kurt said, and now his fingers were slick, and they dipped into the crease of Puck's ass with quick, purposeful strokes.

"Your mouth," said Puck, through gritted teeth. "You kiss like you know what you want. None of this tentative crap; you go for it. It's hot and wet and I dream about your fucking mouth on mine, Kurt." The last was a plea, but Kurt wasn't listening.

"Anything else?"

"Your cock," Puck whispered, feeling his ears heat up, and he leaned against the cool wall, closing his eyes and shuddering. "God."

"What was that?" Kurt prompted.

"I want your cock," Puck said, louder, almost angrily, and he cried out as he felt the blunt pressure of Kurt behind him, sliding into him, all of a sudden, and it might have hurt if he hadn't been so fucking turned on. As it was, he could feel his untouched cock twitching, ready to spill, and he warned him, "Kurt, you're gonna make me…"

"Yes," said Kurt, pulling back and filling him again, and again, and again. "I am."

Puck's hands never budged off the wall as his ass rose to meet Kurt's hips, hitting that perfect angle through long practice and familiarity, and he felt his heart bursting with regret and fear and sadness for anything that had ever hurt Kurt, ever, through his whole generous, passionate life. "Kurt," he said, brokenly. "Fuck, Kurt, I love you so much."

"I know, sweetheart," Kurt said, not stopping for one second, but running a hand down Puck's back, from the nape of his neck to the point of their connection. Puck could feel the hem of Kurt's skirt brush against his ass and legs with each thrust. "You don't have to be sorry for anything. This -  _this_ is how this boy wants to love you."

"Thank god," Puck groaned, and he came in long, sticky spurts against the wall. "Thank god for that."


End file.
